


The Amazing True Story of Two Assholes In Love

by indiefic



Series: Dark Ways [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Steve and Peggy were together, Steve is THE WORST, The serum made Steve evil, Then they broke up, a lot of spectacularly bad decision making, but not really, hatesex kind of, mentions of BDSM, mentions of previous relationships with other people, now they're sort of sleeping together, some bdsm but on the light side, they have a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: In the very end bits of the last installment (I hate you, a love story), Steve and Peggy go from being friendly to moving in together.  A whole lot was glossed over.  This is the story of how they ended up back together for good, and then the continuing adventures of their life together and with their adult son, Michael.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The very last bit of the previous story (I hate you, a love story) is Steve and Peggy sleeping together over the summer. Then it cuts to them moving in together. There is approximately a year between those two events. This story fills in the gap as to what actually happened between those two events.

 

**Part 1**

 

Peggy looked up and saw Steve slip onto the deserted terrace.  He looked good.  She wondered what he’d been up to, if he’d been entertaining a companion.  It was obvious he hadn’t been sitting at home alone.  He arched an eyebrow at her, his lips curling into a wolfish smile.

Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back to the New York skyline, taking another drag off the cigarette.  She tried to ignore the frigid breeze cutting easily through her cocktail dress.  She was drunk enough that it wasn’t too uncomfortable - and drunk enough to message Steve, when she damn well knew better.  “Why are you here?”

Closing the distance between them, he stopped right behind her, bracing his hands against the railing on either side of her hips.  “You texted.”

She could feel the heat of his body and it took everything she had not to push back into him.  “Yes.   _ Texted _ .  It wasn’t an invitation.”

“Sure seemed like one,” he said evenly, refusing to take the bait.  He nipped at her neck, and she brushed him off with an impatient huff.  He made an irritated sound.  “Why are you out here all alone freezing your ass off?  Is it Harris again?  Just let me kill him.”

She flicked the cigarette away and turned in the cage of his arms.  He didn’t back up, but she met his gaze evenly.  “I don’t need you to do anything other than distract me.”

Steve nodded, dipping his head, nuzzling under her jaw, then along her collarbone.  Truthfully, her text had been an invitation - or at least, she knew he would take it as such.  They’d been dancing around each other for months.  They’d slept together over the summer, once.  Then she’d sworn him - and all other men - off.  He was still hanging around, even without the promise of sex.  

Peggy was still trying to figure Steve out.  He’d mellowed in his old age - not that he looked old, certainly not any older than she looked.  On the surface, they both looked like peers, rather than parents, of their twenty-five year old son, Michael.  

Steve wasn’t exactly tame these days.  But his need for constant conflict, and the insatiable drive to conquer, definitely waned over the years.  Peggy had no idea what sort of agreement he’d negotiated to keep himself out of the newest supermax prison, but it was clear there was one.  Steve kept a low profile, but he wasn’t hiding the way he’d had to when Michael was small.  And more than that, he seemed content, most of the time, to just spend time with her, even if sex wasn’t involved.  It was all very suspect.  So Peggy had been keeping her distance lately.

But this fucking holiday party.  How did she let Mai talk her into attending?  Harris was an asshole.  And it wasn’t like Peggy didn’t have a long history of dealing with assholes at work.  But the truth was, she was fucking tired of it.  She was tired of proving things, of having to work twice as hard for half the credit.  Not that it was as bad as it had been in the forties, but the world wasn’t nearly as progressive as it liked to believe.  It didn’t help matters that Peggy had made a huge mistake and gotten involved with Harris - very briefly - years ago when he first started with the agency.  He never let her forget it.  She was so done with all of it.

Steve wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.  “I can make you feel better.”

She snorted, even as she luxuriated in the warmth of his body.  “I doubt it.”

He kissed her neck and she bit back a sigh.  Actually, she was counting on Steve to make her feel better, that’s why she’d texted him in the first place.  But she wasn’t about to make it easy for him.  He probably expected that though. Steve rarely seemed to mind having to put in extra work to get what he wanted.  He pulled back far enough to meet and hold her gaze.  Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leaned in for a kiss.  She met him in the middle, and parted her lips at his gentle prodding.  He had to know she was a sure thing tonight, but he had the sense not to gloat.

He shrugged out of his leather jacket and then wrapped it around her shoulders.  She put it on, loving the way it still held the heat of his body.  She kissed him again, laying her hand against his chest.  She could feel the reassuring beat of his heart.

Breaking the kiss, she leaned back slightly, so her lower back was supported against the concrete wall that ringed the terrace.  Steve watched her in silence.  With considerable dexterity, she managed to shimmy out of her panties until they were pooled against the polished concrete floor.  Steve just blinked down at them.

“Pick those up for me, will you.”

He looked at her with obvious hunger, and bent over, waiting patiently as she gingerly stepped out of the panties.  He hooked the black lace on one finger and held it out to her.  With a smile, she took them and tucked them into the inside breast pocket of his jacket.  Then she reached behind herself and steadied her hands on the railing, while widening her stance in an obvious invitation.

Steve licked his lips and then chuckled, looking around the terrace.  “Aren’t there security cameras out here?”

“Probably,” she said, unconcerned.  What was a little more chaos when her life was already a disaster?  “You scared?”

He groaned, screwing his eyes shut.  When he opened them, he moved closer, wrapping one arm around her waist, kissing her.  “Not scared, no.  But not reckless, either.”  He slowly turned her around in his embrace, so she was facing out, toward the skyline, with him against her back.  His teeth caught the edge of her ear, and his hand moved between her thighs.  “I can help you out,” he said, “but we’re going to need considerably more privacy for what I have in mind.”

She let her head fall back against his shoulder.  She wasn’t shocked at his gentle rebuff.  Steve, in spite of his love of grandstanding, wasn’t one for reckless behavior on strange turf.  He could be plenty raunchy, but only in an environment he could control.  Even now, she knew he was trying to hurry things along, but she didn’t even care.  He knew how to touch her, how to hold her.  And she trusted him, perverse as that was.

She widened her stance and he nipped along her jaw, his fingers rubbing her firmly.  Fuck, it had been a long time.  She’d been stewing in her own sexual frustration for months while she tortured both herself and Steve by keeping things strictly platonic.  She didn’t think absence made the heart grown fonder, but abstinence certainly made her horny as hell.

“Yes, yes,” she whimpered, and then she was screwing her eyes shut, shivering in his arms as her climax washed through her.

 

* * *

 

He held her until she was inclined to move.  She finally pushed away from him, righting her skirt, combing her fingers through her hair.  She was sure she was flushed, but she could blame that on the cold and the booze.  

If the hunger in his expression was any indication, he wasn’t complaining about the way she looked.  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

She nodded, and let him take her by the hand.

 

* * *

 

The car dropped them in front of Steve’s building.  It was a decidedly nicer neighborhood than Peggy’s.  She’d been there several times, under the guise of being friendly with the father of her son.  What a joke.  She and Steve weren’t friends.  They would never be friends.

He threaded his fingers through hers and led her inside the building.  A palm swipe got them in the private elevator, which then deposited them in the foyer of his gargantuan apartment.  She stopped, just over the threshold and took off her shoes.  He took them from her, and then crossed the living room to the bar, pouring them both a drink.  She didn’t wait for an invitation, she saw herself to the loo.  After she straightened herself up, she considered putting her underwear back on, and decided against it.  They both knew why she was here.

When she returned to the living room, Steve had removed his socks and shoes as well.  He’d also taken off his button up shirt, leaving him only in a white tank top that accentuated his incredible physique. He was sprawled out on his couch, his bare feet propped on his coffee table.  He held the tumbler of whiskey out to her and she took a cautious sip.  She was still lit from the party, and her constitution wasn’t what it used to be.  

Slowly, she sank down onto the couch cushions next to him.  Immediately, his arm went around her, pulling her to him.  She set her glass aside, and did the same with his.  He kissed her hungrily, his hands roaming over her body.  She lost herself in the kisses, in the filthy words he was whispering to her.  He teased, until she was aching for him.

Pushing herself up, she climbed on top of him, determined to get the literal and metaphorical upper hand.  He immediately gripped her hips as she braced her hands against the back of the couch on either side of his head.  Looking down at him, she asked, “What were you doing before I texted?”

He blinked at her, thrown by the change of topic.  “Why?”

She pushed herself back, so she was sitting on him.  They both groaned at the contact, but she forced herself to frown at him.  “Answer my question.”

“I was meeting someone for dinner.”

“Who?”

“Business interests.”

She couldn’t tell if he was being honest or not.  She knew for certain that he didn’t like this topic of conversation.  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “You have to stop sending me dick pics.  I already know what you look like.  And out of context it’s ridiculous.”

He didn’t look in the slightest bit chastised, grinning broadly.  He used his hands on her hips to rock her against him.  “And in context?”

She took a shuddering breath, hating how much she liked it.  “In context, pictures are unnecessary,” she managed.

He grinned deviously at her, and lowered his feet to the floor, pushing himself into a sitting position.  She was still wearing his jacket and he pulled it back off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor.  He trailed his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of her chest, and then looked her in the eye.  “Come to bed with me, Peggy.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded.

His arms immediately went under her backside, and he stood up, carrying her down the hall to his bedroom.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying not to think about what she was doing.  Again.

He set her down on the bed and turned on a lamp.  She’d never been in his bedroom before, and she wasn’t sure if it was what she expected or not.  It was somewhat utilitarian, given the luxury of the rest of the apartment.  The bed was large and comfortable, but not particularly attractive, either in design of decoration.  There was a nightstand, cluttered with a pile of books and various other detritus.  It looked like he had a habit of dropping things there.  There were clothes, all his, littered around the room, and into the elaborate walk-in closet.  The master bath, what she could see of it, looked equally untidy.  It was all clean enough, she was sure he had a housekeeper.  Having already cohabitated with him in limited capacities, she knew he wasn’t particularly tidy.  But apparently when in his own space, he really let it all hang out.

But for all the clutter, there was no sign of anyone other than him.

He frowned at her.  “If you’re looking for evidence of other women, you’re not going to find any.”

“And why is that?” she asked pointedly.

He just looked at her, but didn’t reply.  She already knew the answer.  Because there was no one else.  At least no one regular.  And certainly no one he brought here.  But he wouldn’t say that, for the same reason that she wouldn’t admit why she texted him.

She lay back on the bed and looked at him.  “I thought we were going to fuck.”

He arched an eyebrow.  “Is that why you’re here?”

She frowned at him, and he just grinned as he stalked toward her across the bed on all fours.  However, when he reached her, most of the playfulness faded away.  His touches were careful, reverent.  They undressed each other slowly, like this was all new and unknown, rather than the same steps they’d been dancing for years.  

Steve stopped after he stripped away her dress, his hand lingering on her hip.  She lay back, watching as his fingertips lightly traced over the design tattooed on her hip.  A compass, with the needle pointing forever north.

He looked up at her and their eyes met.  She cleared her throat, and tried to sound nonchalant.  “It’s been there for years.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, unable to look at him.  “I got it the first year I was in Mumbai.”

He waited.  She could feel his breath puffing against her abdomen.

She blinked up at the ceiling.  “I missed you so much,” she admitted in a bare whisper.  

She dared to look at him.  His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable.  This was dangerous territory and they both knew it.  But it was also necessary if this was ever going to be anything more than a night here or there.  

The idea that she might want it to be more than that was terrifying.

She reached out and touched his cheek.  “Do you have any mementos?”

She could see his jaw muscles stand out, hear the way the cadence of his breathing picked up.  He shook his head, his eyes glassy.  “Not like that.”

For the first time, she allowed herself to wonder what he did when she left, when she took Michael from him.  She knew it had to have been bad.  But she wondered how bad.  She wondered how deeply she wounded him, and how viciously he lashed out, and at whom.

She felt unbalanced, she drank too much courage, and she couldn’t stop.  “What would you have done if you’d found us?”

He shook his head and looked away.  He reached over and turned off the lamp.

“Tell me,” she pressed. 

He released a harsh breath and made a sound, more exhausted than frustrated, gathering her close.  “Don’t, Peggy.  That was all a very long time ago.  We can’t change any of it.”

It was a frustrating answer, even if it was true.  It was all history now.  Michael was grown.  And they had to figure out what they meant to each other - if they meant anything at all.

“Love me,” she whispered against his lips.

She could feel him grin. “Always.”

He kissed her again, and then scooted down her body, nipping and licking as he went.  He paused at her tattoo, kissing it, before he urged her to hook her leg over his shoulder.  Then his mouth was hot and wet between her legs, his tongue teasing her as his fingers entered her.  She shivered, her breath catching.  Fuck, he was good at this.  

She gave herself over to the feeling, over to him.  She was vaguely aware of the noises she was making, but she didn’t care.  All that mattered was Steve.

She finally pushed him away, feeling boneless and limp.  She expected him to be insufferably smug, but he merely made his way up her body, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  He settled against her, nipping along her jaw.  She could feel him, hard against her inner thigh.

“I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She nodded, and he wasted no time, positioning himself between her legs.  And then he was pushing into her, slowly, but surely.  Her back arched and her breath hissed through her teeth.

“Fuck, Peggy,” he cursed, burying his face against the column of her neck.  With single-minded purpose, he set a punishing rhythm, driving into her until he found his own release.

 

* * *

 

Afterward, they lay side by side in the dark.  Peggy was still drunk, and she hated that, knowing she was going to be hung over in the morning.  Sighing, she rolled over, scooting against him.  He drew her closer and she pillowed her head on his shoulder.  After everything they’d been through, there was no reason it should feel so comfortable, but it did.

They lay together for a long time, but Peggy couldn’t go to sleep.  There were too many dark thoughts rattling around her in mind, fueled by alcohol and the evening’s earlier turmoil.  She thought she heard something and she lifted her head, listening.

She heard it again.  “My phone’s ringing.  Go get it.”

He grunted.

She nudged him.  “Go on.”

Growling, Steve got out of bed and stalked, nude, out to the living room to retrieve her phone.  He tossed it to her.  She flipped on the lamp and looked at it, frowning as she answered.  “Yeah?”

“Hey,” Michael said.  “I’m in town.  I was supposed to meet Dad for dinner and then crash at his place, but he left some vague message and now I can’t get ahold of him.  Can I stay with you?”

“You’re in town tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, of course,” she said.  “I’m out of town, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning.  You have a key, right?”

“Yeah.  I’ll let myself in.”

“Okay, sweetheart.  Have a good night.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.  See you.”

Peggy hung up the phone and glared at Steve.  “You stood up  _ Michael _ so you could get laid?”

Steve looked at her incredulously.  “He’s a grown man.  Obviously, he’s capable of problem solving his way out of this.” He pointed at Peggy’s phone as evidence of this fact.

She shook her head, disgusted.  “He’s your  _ son _ .”

“Yeah,” Steve said, unrepentant, “and you -  _ his mother - _ seemed like you needed my company more than he did.  He’s fine.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me earlier that you were supposed to meet Michael?”

Steve laughed mirthlessly.  “Because, for some reason, I thought talking about our son might put a damper on the evening.”

Groaning, she turned off the light and flopped down on the bed.  “You’re the worst.”

Steve made an irritated noise, but moved closer to her.  He tugged at her hip until she rolled over onto her back, looking at him in the dim light.  He laid down on his side right next to her, one of his legs thrown over one of hers, his hand resting at her waist.  “You were upset tonight,” he said quietly.

She shrugged and looked away.  She didn’t want to talk about it.  She didn’t even want to think about it.

“Peg,” he said gently.  “What’s going on?”

She shook her head, blinking quickly.  All this bullshit with Harris.  It was absurd.  She wasn’t scared of the guy.  She was just so fucking tired of dealing with him and his incessant harassment.  It was wearing her down, bit by bit, day after day.  Usually she could shrug it off, but tonight it had been too much.

Steve leaned down and kissed the tear on her cheek that she hadn’t realized was there.  She could feel the coiled tension in his body and she knew there was no way he was going to stay out of it.  She hated how much comfort she found in that.

With a sigh, she rolled toward him.  He gathered her in his arms, holding her.  He kissed her temple, her cheek, and then, finally, her lips.  “I love you, Peggy,” he whispered.

She nodded.  “I know.  It’s why I texted you.”

  
  


* * *

 

**PART TWO**

 

Harris’s partner found him at the bottom of an elevator shaft five weeks later.  He was alive, barely.  He had a dozen broken bones, a punctured lung and spleen, and severe head trauma.  It was doubtful he would ever be back in the field.

Peggy missed the drama.  She was in Phoenix when it happened, slowly being turned into a raisin by the unrelenting combination of desert heat and hotel air conditioning.  Mai called and told her the news.  She said they were working leads, but it looked like Harris had some really twisted personal stuff going on, and it got out of hand.  

Peggy was just ending the conversation when she looked across the hotel lobby and saw Steve.  He was wearing a pair of ridiculous sunglasses.  He waved.  She sighed and headed to the parking garage.  He climbed into the car with her, holding on as she peeled out of the garage.

“I told you not to do anything,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.

“You weren’t the only one, Peg.”

She looked over at him and he met her gaze over the top of his sunglasses.  Then he looked away.

Peggy cursed under her breath.  “My instincts are off.”

“Your instincts are fine,” he said flatly.  “You’re depressed, Harris is a predator, and the organizational culture is criminal.”

She looked over at him.  “This coming from you.”

He snorted.  “That alone should tell you a lot about how fucked up it is.”

She shook her head.  “Jesus.”  She smacked the steering wheel, hard.  She was angry, embarrassed.  She could take care of her own shit.  She didn’t need Steve intervening.  “I told you to stay out of it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, unconcerned.  “I just let some interested parties know where he’d be.  Some of his scene partners weren’t so willing or resilient as you.”

Peggy slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road, ignoring the honks of the trailing drivers.  “I don’t need you, of all people, to protect me!”

He took off the sunglasses and looked at her, his demeanor perfectly calm. “I didn’t do it because he touched you, Peg.  You’re a big girl.  But he made you cry.”

Her head snapped back like he’d hit her and she blinked quickly.  She laughed harshly.  “You’re the only one who gets to do that, right?”

He just watched her for a long moment, and then said, very carefully, “I know what I am.  And for all my perceived faults, dominating or humiliating you has never gotten me off.  Harris and I may both meet similar clinical definitions, but we are not the same.”

She turned away, covering her eyes with her hand.  The worst part was that everything he said was true.  He was a murdering sociopath.  And he still treated her with more respect than Harris had.  How the fuck could she even begin to reconcile that?

She heard him open his door and get out.  Then her door opened and he gently touched her shoulder.  “Scoot over.”  She slid into the passenger seat and buckled up as he adjusted the car to his liking.  

He drove her to the drop point.  It was in the middle of fucking nowhere.  She had no idea how he knew about it.  He waited in the car while she made the drop and then he drove her back to the hotel.

 

* * *

 

They walked to her room in silence.  Peggy didn’t turn on any lights.  The blackout curtains were still drawn against the blinding desert sun, but there was a small sliver of light that kept the room from being completely dark. 

She just stood in the middle of the room, fingers laced together on top of her head, staring blindly at the wall.  

Steve was leaning back against the door, waiting.  “It would be easier,” he finally said, “if I was Erskine’s good man.”

“Of course it would be easier,” she said hoarsely.  She sighed, dropping her hands and turning to face him.  She shook her head.  “I don’t know what to do about you.”

He took several steps toward her, watching her carefully.  “You want to hate me.”

“I do hate you,” she said sourly.

He leaned in close.  “That’s a chickenshit answer.”

She sighed, screwing her eyes shut.

He took a deep breath and straightened up.  “You’ve tried running away, Peg,” he said evenly.  “By your own admission, you were miserable.”

“Yes, well, needs must,” she said dryly, glaring at him.

He frowned at her.  “You did it because you convinced yourself you had to do it for Michael.  But now Michael’s grown.  It’s just you and me.”

“Why do I have to be the one to walk away?” she demanded.  “Why don’t you leave?”

He erupted in an instant, snapping in her face.  “Because I want you!”  He caught himself, and pulled back.  He took a breath, composing himself.  “I’ve never pretended otherwise, Peggy.  I wanted you then.  I want you now.  Forever.  Always.  As long as I’m alive, I want you.”

She groaned and crossed the room to sit down on the bed.   

He watched her for a moment and then followed, taking a seat next to her.  They sat in silence for a long time.  Finally, he took a breath and said, “Michael was fourteen when he contacted me.”

She looked over at him, astounded.

He met her gaze evenly.  “You were married,” he said quietly.  “You seemed happy enough.  You looked like you were trying to make it work with her.”

“You knew where we were?”

He looked away and nodded.  “Contrary to what you think, I can actually recognize when I’m truly not wanted.”  He looked at her.  “Just like I can recognize when I am wanted, regardless of what you might be yelling at me.”

She shook her head.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you keep me around because I’m the one person who calls you on your bullshit?  I’m the only person who even knows you well enough to be able to call you on your bullshit.”  He sighed.  “You keep everyone at arm’s length, Peg.  You lie to them.  You lie to yourself.  You drink too much.  You call me at three in the morning to talk, and then try and pretend you’re not about to die from loneliness.”

Shaking her head again, she stood up.  “Leave,” she said.  “Now.”

Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet.  He looked at her.  “I’m going to take you at your word, Peg.”

“Out.”

Without another word, he turned and left.

 

* * *

 

**PART THREE**

 

 

“What’s going on with you?”

Peggy recapped the water bottle and looked at her son.  They were standing on the sidewalk in front of her building, having just finished a morning run.  He’d been in town for the last few days, but he’d be leaving tomorrow.  “What do you mean?”

Michael frowned, looking discomfitingly like his father.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “The exercising, the meditation.  I saw the books on your bookshelf, and I noticed the liquor cabinet is empty.  You’re not moving back to India are you?”

She shook her head. “No.  I’m just trying to get some perspective on things.”

He arched an eyebrow and frowned harder, but didn’t ask anymore questions.

 

* * *

 

Peggy had lunch with Mai.  They kept in touch, but they didn’t see each other a whole lot anymore.  Peggy had left the agency.  As much as she hated to admit it, Steve had been right.  The institutional culture was abysmal, even with Harris gone.

Peggy was currently freelancing.  She enjoyed the flexibility.  But she hated feeling like she was constantly looking for her next contract.  Her job was just another thing she needed to figure out.

She hadn’t talked to Steve in months.  Not since right after the new year, in that hotel room in Phoenix.  She knew he was in New York.  But he hadn’t sent any dick pics, or shown up at her apartment with take out, or ambushed her on the rare occasion when she made it known on social media that she would be attending public events.

Steve said he would take her at her word, and apparently, that was what he was doing.  She told him to get out, and he was out.

Peggy didn’t like it.  She knew that was fucked up, and yet, there it was.

Peggy had spent the last several months considering how Steve fit in her life.  And she had come to the supremely uncomfortable realization that she missed him.  And not just the physical companionship - though she definitely did miss that.  She missed  _ him _ .  She missed his sarcasm and quick wit.  She missed the kindness and compassionate behavior he was capable of.  But she was careful not to lull herself into thinking he was a good man.  He wasn’t.  He was a prick.  And a murdering sociopath.  But apparently that didn’t preclude her from wishing he was around more.  As Steve had said, he was one of the very few people who actually knew her - maybe the only person who really knew her.  Certainly he was her only real peer.  He’d known her when she was a young woman, and everything in between.  They had a child together.  He’d seen her at her darkest, and her fiercest.  And he rarely shied away from it.  But was that a good enough reason to want to be with someone?

Peggy understood that the right thing to do would be to contact Steve.  To have a clear and honest conversation with him about her own thoughts and feelings, and allow him the space to respond, without preconceived notions about what his response would be.  And to decide, together, if it was even possible for them to be in each other’s lives.

But she didn’t do that.

Friday night, after a particularly grueling day, on just about every front - an argument via email and social media with Michael, two separate freelance contracts that fell through, and her shower drain backed up - Peggy made a snap decision.  Unannounced, she went over to Steve’s apartment. The doorman let her in.  And the elevator accepted her palm swipe.

She didn’t know if he was home.  She didn’t even text to see.  For all she knew, he could have had company.  Part of her hoped he did, she was itching to make a scene.

But when she entered his apartment, no one was there.  Again, she had options.  She could have called him and told him where she was.  But she didn’t.  

She went into his bedroom.  It was cleaner than the last time she’d been there.  Peggy didn’t like that.  Who was he trying to impress?

She stripped out of her clothes, and then found one of his t-shirts and put it on.  Then she crawled between the covers of his bed and waited.  He would have to come home eventually.

 

* * *

 

Peggy had fallen asleep.  When she woke, Steve was standing next to the bed, backlit by the light from the master bathroom.  She glanced at her phone.  It was just after midnight.

Shaking his head, he walked into the bathroom, peeling off his clothes as he went.  He showered, and she knew exactly why.  He’d been with someone tonight.  She hated how much she hated that.

He finally turned off the water, and then eventually walked back in the bedroom, nude, toweling off his wet hair as he looked at her.  “You know, I get a message when you use the elevator.”

“Hope I didn’t ruin your evening,” Peggy said acidly.  “What is she?  A dancer?  An assassin?”

He sighed and tossed the towel on the floor.  “Her name is Simone and she teaches art to little kids.”

Peggy swallowed thickly.  That wasn’t what she expected.  “Do you love her?”

Steve sighed, shaking his head.  He sat down on the bed next to her, looking down at her.  “No,” he said flatly.  “I don’t love her.  But I’m fucking old.  And I don’t like to be alone.”  He shrugged.  “She’s smart and attractive.  I enjoy spending time with her.”

“What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish by telling me this?”

“What are you trying to accomplish by waiting for me in my bed when you haven’t even spoken to me in months?” he countered.

“Fine,” she said, sitting up and throwing off the covers.  “I’ll leave.”  She turned on the lamp.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said.

She stopped, and looked at him.  They were sitting next to each other.  She knew she should say something.  She’d pretty much broken into his apartment.  But she didn’t know what to say.

“I will always choose you, Peggy,” he said evenly.  “Over anyone else.  But I’m not going to sit at home alone waiting on you to figure out what you want.  I spent fifteen years doing that.  I’m done.  If you want me, you know where I am.  Obviously.”

“So that’s it?” she said.  “Take it or leave it?”

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” he snapped.  “I cleaned up my life.  I’m off Stark’s radar.  I didn’t even kill Harris, though that motherfucker deserved to be killed.”  He shrugged, obviously irritated.  “I’m never going to be Erskine’s good man, Peggy.  Get over it.”

She growled in frustration and flopped back on the bed.

“What are you so afraid of?” he demanded.

“Counting on you,” she snapped, surprising herself with the answer.  It was true, though she hadn’t voiced it, even to herself, so succinctly.

Steve looked at her, a sour expression on his face.  “Maybe you should try it once,” he said.  “I might surprise you.”

She looked away.  As much as it galled her to admit, Steve was dependable.  Typically she could depend on him to be a prick.  But she could also depend on him to drop what he was doing and help her - if she asked.  She usually didn’t ask.

Steve was still fuming, she knew.  He shook his head.  “I’m willing to accept the blame for my own faults,” he said.  “But I’m done with you laying everything on me and expecting me to take it.  I know I was a shit father, but I loved Michael and you stole him from me.”

Peggy blinked quickly and looked away.  She took a deep breath. “I know,” she said in a near whisper.  She looked at him.  “I’m sorry.”

He watched her without blinking and then shook his head, looking away.  “I knew you were in India.  I always knew where you were, Peggy.   _ Always _ .”  He looked back at her.  “Do you really think there is anywhere in this world that you could go that I wouldn’t find you?”

Her brow furrowed.  “You knew?”

He screwed his eyes shut and his shoulders seemed to slump.  “I already told you, I know I was a shit father.  I got that.  So I stayed away - until Michael made it clear he wanted a relationship.”  He opened his eyes and looked at her.  “But I always kept an eye out for you and Michael.”

Peggy stared at the ceiling, mindless of the tears streaming down her face.  “It wasn’t just you that was the problem when Michael was little.”  

He didn’t say anything, but when she glanced at him, he was watching her intently.  

She cleared her throat.  “ _ We _ set a really bad example for Michael,” she said quietly.  She shook her head.  “I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t know how else to stop it.”

He groaned and then lay down on the bed next to her.  

She looked over at him.  “You don’t have a response to that?”

He shrugged, seeming more tired than anything.  “What do you want me to say?  It was twenty fucking years ago.”

She frowned at him.  “That’s all you’ve got?”

He looked exasperated.  “I don’t see much point in rehashing the past.  I’d rather figure out what we’re going to do  _ now _ .”

Peggy groaned.

“Exactly,” he said dryly.  “You don’t want to talk about now.  You just want to keep bringing up old shit to complain about.”

“Fine,  _ fine _ ,” she said, pushing herself into a sitting position.  “Let’s talk about now.  For starters, I want you to break things off with Simone.”

“Are you planning on keeping me company?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him.  “For the sake of argument, yes.”

“Done,” he said flatly.

She frowned at him.  “That’s it?  You can be so cavalier about ending it?”

He pushed himself up on one elbow, narrowing his eyes at her.  “I want  _ you _ ,” he said.  “You are always my first choice.  If you’re planning on being in my life, I don’t need or want anyone else.”

“You swear?”

“Why the fuck do I have to swear?” he demanded.  “I’m not the one who runs away, you are.  I’m not afraid of commitment.  I’ve been committed to this relationship since 1943.”

Peggy snorted at the absurdity of the situation.  But she couldn’t fault his logic.  That much was true.  He was committed.

Emboldened by the change in her demeanor, he pushed himself up and kissed her.  It was a good kiss.  Long.  Lots of tongue.  

She finally pulled back, narrowing her eyes at him.  “So out of curiosity, where did you find dear Simone, the child art educator?”

He shrugged.  “She moonlights as a bartender at one of Cray’s clubs in SoHo.  I don’t know how good she is at teaching art, but she can suck a ping pong ball through a garden hose.”

Peggy groaned, screwing her eyes shut.  “Jesus.  You are such an asshole.”

He smiled wickedly.  “I know, but I’m your asshole.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m not moving in here.  It’s a dump,” Steve said flatly.

“I’m not moving into your place.  You bought it with blood money,” Peggy countered, crossing her arms over her chest. They were standing in the miniscule kitchen of her aforementioned dump of an apartment, trying to negotiate moving in together.  So far, it wasn’t going particularly well.

“Blood money?” he scoffed.  “I bought it with tech stocks.  Who the fuck do you think I am?  Howard?”

“Really?” she said, unconvinced.  “Let me see your books and I’ll decide for myself.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.  “You’re a forensic accountant now?  You can’t even balance your checkbook.  I had to cover your electricity bill last month.”

She just started at him.

 

* * *

 

In the end, they both ended up giving up their places, and getting a new place, together.  It wasn’t the luxury of his former apartment, but it was considerably nicer than her old place.  It had three bedrooms, the master, an office for her, and a room for Michael, on the rare occasion when he was in town.  

They still hadn’t told Michael they were living together.  They hadn’t even told him they were seeing each other again.  Peggy wasn’t really looking forward to that conversation.

However, despite the rest of Peggy’s trepidations about moving in with Steve, it was going really well.  True to his word, as long as she was with him, he didn’t seem to need anything else, either in terms of seeking companionship, or causing havoc.  He spent most of his time at the gym or on the couch.  He was supportive of her job, both emotionally and financially.  And Peggy was discovering she liked freelancing a whole lot more now that she wasn’t continually worried she was going to get evicted for failing to pay rent.

With a sigh, Peggy turned off the light in her office.  The apartment was quiet.  She turned off lights as she walked back to the master bedroom.  There was a lamp on and Steve was laying in bed with his tablet.

“What’re you watching?” she asked, as she undressed in the closet.

“Porn.”

She looked at him, glowering.

“What?” he said, shrugging.  “It’s you.”

“I hate you so much.”

“It’s a flattering angle, I swear.  Come see for yourself.  I recorded it the other night after we polished off those two bottles of bordeaux.  Your tits look fantastic.”

Peggy ignored him and walked into the bathroom.  She showered, and then applied her nightly skin care.  By the time she walked back into the bedroom, he’d put the tablet down.  She stood at the end of the bed and shrugged out of her silk robe, leaving her nude.

“Have you tired yourself out?” she asked.  “Or are you still up for entertaining me?”

He grinned.  “I’m always up for you, Peg.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s my new address,” Peggy said.  “I moved.  I’m living with someone.”

On the other end of the phone, Michael was quiet.  “Like a roommate?”

“No,” Peggy said.  “Not a roommate.”

Michael was quiet again.  She could hear him take a breath.  “What do you mean you’re living with someone?  You haven’t even mentioned dating anyone.”

Peggy took a deep breath.  “We haven’t been dating.  Not really.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Michael asked, aghast.

“It’s not supposed to make you feel anything, Michael.  I’m simply telling you,” she said tartly.

There was silence on the other line.  “Oh, God,” he finally said.  “It’s Dad isn’t it?  He got a new place too.  You two are back together.”

Peggy cleared her throat.  “Yes, if you must know, I am living with your father.”  She pressed on before Michael could interrupt.  “The place we got has a spare bedroom, so you’ll still have a place to stay, that is if you’re still planning to visit next month.”

He was quiet again.  Finally, he said, sourly, “Well this should be fun.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’m bringing my fiancée.”

 

END STORY


	2. A Certain Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy Carter is great at making decisions and executing them. She’s less okay with dealing with the fallout of other people’s decisions. All relationships are about give and take. 
> 
> (The episode where Steve isn’t the one who’s the total asshole crazy person for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely own up to the fact that this Series is structurally a mess. All of the stories in this series should probably be condensed into chapters of a single work but ... that's not going to happen. So for now, I will be adding future updates as chapters to this story, for as it makes sense to do so.

“Fiancee?”

That’s what Michael said,” Peggy replied, staring at her phone, which was now sitting on the counter.  “Her name is Camila.”

Steve watched Peggy watching her phone. She looked like she was waiting for it to do something.  Steve wasn’t sure what that might be.  She was flushed and her breathing was uneven.  

Turning her head, she looked at him.  “Did you know about this?”

Steve shook his head and then frowned.  “I haven’t heard anything about any of Michael’s girlfriends since the last serious one.”

She flinched, and then immediately narrowed her eyes at him.  “The last serious one?”

Steve blinked, weighing his options.  This wasn’t good.  “I forget her name,” he said, trying to sound off hand.  “You know.  The last one.”

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest, waiting, her frown deepening by the second.

Shit.  He rubbed the back of his neck, scowling.  “Her name was Mirabel or Marisol or something.  I don’t fucking know.  It wasn’t important.”

Peggy looked wounded, but quickly cleared her throat, straightening her back.  “Michael didn’t tell me about her.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Steve said sourly.  “She was a freeloading mooch who expected to be taken care of while she did nothing but spend Michael’s money.”

Peggy’s lips pinched into a frown.  “Was she a good person?”

“How the fuck would I know?” Steve asked.  “She was a mooch.  I had Chen pull her credit rating.  It was abysmal.  Do you have any idea how much money Michael makes?  Trust me, it wasn’t enough for her.  He finally wised up and broke it off.”

Peggy sighed.  “Just to clarify, you didn’t care whether or not she was a good person, or if they really cared about one another.  You were bothered by the fact that she was bad with money.”

Steve shrugged.

Peggy rolled her eyes.  “You are such a tightwad.”

He didn’t bother denying it.  It was true.  He was a strong believer in fiscal responsibility.  There was no shame in that - not that he found shame in anything, really.

Peggy leaned back against the counter, watching him closely.  “You’ve had to bail me out of a couple financial tight spots.  Does that make me a mooch?”

“Fuck yes it makes you a mooch,” Steve said evenly, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.  Which it was.  “You’re terrible with money.  If you had made even the most modest investments when they defrosted us, you’d be set for life.  But you’re still living hand to mouth.  If it wasn’t for me, you’d be back in that shitty apartment, taking every contract you could find, and you’d still have your lights cut every other month.”

Peggy stared at him, open mouthed, her eyes welling with tears.  

_ Oh shit. _  He reached out toward her, “Peg - “

“Don’t touch me.”  Without another word, she turned and stalked down the hall to the master bedroom, slamming the door.

 

* * *

 

Steve stayed away from the apartment most of the day and evening, hoping it would give Peggy time and space to cool off.  He knew she was upset about Michael not having mentioned his fiancee, or his previous girlfriend.  And Steve hadn’t helped matters by pointing out the perfectly obvious truth that Peggy was fucking awful with money.

But now he was in trouble.  And he fucking  _ hated _ that, especially when he hadn’t actually  _ done _ anything.  All Steve had ever wanted out of this life was a quiet home with Peggy.  That was it.  Fuck  _ everything _ else.  

Steve loved his son, he’d do anything for him.  But fuck Michael and his goddamn drama about his fucking fiancee.  The only thing Michael was going to accomplish by dragging a new girl into all their lives was making Peggy crazy.  That, in turn, was going to make Steve’s life a living hell.  Steve wished like hell that Michael had just kept his romantic entanglements to himself.

As the day wore on, Steve kept checking his phone, but Peggy hadn’t messaged him.  Not even to tell him to go fuck himself.  This wasn’t good.  She was almost always spoiling for a fight.

It was after ten when he finally went back to the apartment.  Everything was dark, and there were two empty bottles of wine on the counter.  Shit.  Steve walked down the hall to the master bedroom.  The doors were closed.  They were never closed.  Point of fact, he hadn’t even realized they could be closed.  But apparently they could.  And they had a lock.

Steve stared at the door knob.  It wouldn’t take much to break it and open the door.  

But this was a test.

Peggy had locked him out of his own bedroom for being an asshole.  And this was a test to see if he would respect that boundary or not.  He growled under his breath, but knocked lightly on the door.  “Peg?”

There was no answer.  He knocked again.  “Peg?”

“Fuck off.”

He was relieved that she was speaking to him, even if it was just to hurl insults.  He could work with that.  “Are you okay?”

“Fuck.  Off.”

He paused, searching for inspiration.  He smiled as he found some.  “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.”

He could hear her get out of bed and stalk across the floor.  She didn’t open the doors.  She yelled at him through them.  “Sleep in the fucking guest room,” she snapped.  “You’re going to ruin the new couch cushions.”

He stared at the still locked doors.  “You’re kicking me out of my own bed, Peg.  You don’t get to tell me where to sleep.”

She yanked open the door, glaring at him.

He smiled at her.

“Stop smiling,” she snapped.

He tried to school his features into impassivity.  But he was happy to see her.  He reached out, plucking lightly at the nightgown she was wearing, which was actually one of his shirts.  “Come on, Peg,” he said.  “Let me sleep in here.  For the sake of your couch cushions.”

“You’re an asshole,” she seethed at him.  She was obviously still angry, but he could tell she was relenting.  She was upset, and she wanted comfort.

Using his fingertips, he touched her elbows lightly, urging her closer.  She growled at him, but let him draw her into the circle of his arms.  “I’m sorry,” he said, against her hair.

“You’re a dick.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

He dipped his head, nuzzling against her jaw.  “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”  She sighed and he could feel the fight go out of her.  He kissed her in earnest then.  

She pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes.  “You’re going to make this up to me.”

He nodded solemnly, even though he still didn’t feel like he’d really done anything wrong.  “Yes I am.”  He was willing to take one for the team in the name of peace.

 

* * *

 

Afterward, they were curled together in bed, naked.  Steve was spooned against Peggy’s back, his arm wrapped around her waist.  He felt content.  Or as content as he was capable of feeling.  He had Peggy back in his arms.  But he knew she was still angry with him.

He debated the best course of action.  He could keep his mouth shut and hope her anger and upset would blow over.  Except he knew it wouldn’t blow over.  It never blew over.  Peggy was a goddamn dog with a bone.  She never let anything go.  Which meant he could get it over with now, or he could let it drag out for weeks.  She was even worse when she had time to plan.

“What I said earlier, about you being a mooch.  It wasn’t a complaint,” he said, omitting the part where it had all been absolutely true.  

She shifted her head slightly toward him, and then pushed herself into a sitting position.  

Steve groaned in frustration.  So much for thinking he might get out of this the easy way.  They were going to  _ talk  _ about this.  Goddammit.

She clicked on the bedside lamp and frowned down at him.  “How, exactly, is calling me a mooch, and telling me I’m bad with money, not a complaint?”

He shrugged, irritated that she was forcing him to discuss this one off hand statement (of fact) to such absurd lengths.  “It’s part of your charm.”

Now she was glaring at him.  

“What?” he asked, exasperated.

She shook her head.  “You make these grand pronouncements about a person’s fiscal stability and about how it’s grounds for ending a relationship, and expect me not to take it personally.”

He sat up.  “That is  _ not  _ what I said.”

“You said Michael’s last girlfriend was a mooch and you were glad he broke up with her.”

“She was, and I am.”  

“And then you called me a mooch,” Peggy continued.

“You are a mooch,” Steve bit back, unable to hide his irritation.  “You’re absolute shit with money.  Are you going to try and deny it?”

She just huffed at him.

“Are you?” he pressed.

“No,” she bit out.  “But if that’s all that’s important to you, then - “

“I suggest you think twice before you finish that sentence,” Steve said darkly.  

She stopped, but he knew she was still angry and hurt.

He took a deep breath and leaned in closer to her.  “I know you’re upset about Michael and his ridiculous announcement,” he said quietly.  “I know you’re hurt that he didn’t tell you about the last girl.  I assume he did that because he knew she wouldn’t be sticking around.”  Steve hurried on before Peggy could interrupt.  “It’s a big deal to Michael to introduce a girl to you.  He wanted to get it right.  He wants to impress you.  Michael doesn’t give a shit about impressing me.”

Peggy’s eyes were shiny and she wouldn’t look at him.  But she seemed somewhat placated.

Steve took a deep breath.  “I love you, Peggy.  You and Michael are the only people in this world who mean anything to me.  You are my world.  But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re shit with money management.  You always have been, and you always will be.  But I’ll be goddamned if that’s going to keep me away from you.  So I’ll just deal with you being bad with money.”

She finally looked at him.  “How very big of you.”

“I’m a giver.”  He smiled at her, his gaze raking over her naked body.  “In fact - “

“Oh, fuck off,” she said, turning around and flicking off the light before laying back down on the bed, facing away from him.

In the dark, Steve smiled, curling up against Peggy again.  Despite her earlier words, she pressed back against him.  Maybe they would manage to get through Michael’s stupid visit.

 

* * *

 

Peggy seemed better the next day.  Though Steve noticed she bought three new comforters.  She had them all laid out on the guest bed, apparently trying to figure out which one looked best, even though he was pretty sure there was nothing wrong with the one that was already on the bed.  He knew if he checked his credit card statement, he’d find the charges there.  He knew better than to say anything.

Several times, he caught her looking at websites for different wedding and reception venues around the city.  But she hadn’t actually said anything to him about it.  And she seemed calmer.

The next couple of days, she was busy with work.  And Steve kept her busy at night.  There wasn’t any time to worry about Michael, or the fiancee, or the impending wedding.  Steve was relieved.  He started to relax.

That was a mistake.

 

* * *

 

“Oh,” Peggy said, her head snapping back.  “Oh, alright.”

“Mum?  Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course, Michael,” she said evenly, ignoring the way her throat was tightening.  

He was quiet for a moment.  “Well, okay, then Camila and I are going to head to the hotel.  Can you have Dad make dinner reservations?”

“Certainly.  I’ll have him text you the details.”

They said their farewells and hung up.  Peggy frowned at her phone.  As she was standing there, staring at the phone, Steve wandered into the room and wrapped himself around her.  

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Michael and Camila aren’t staying here.  They’re staying at a hotel,” she said tautly.

Steve pulled back and looked at her. She knew he was probably thrilled about this development.  But she wasn’t thrilled.  She understood that Michael and his fiancee would need their own space.  It was just that she didn’t think the changes would start so soon.

“You need to make dinner reservations and then text Michael the details,” she told him.

As Peggy tried to step away, Steve pulled her back.  She relented, letting him hold her.  He nosed into the space under her jaw.  She could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she assured him, ignoring the rising sense of panic in her chest.

His fingers bit into her lower back and he held her tighter.  She sighed and relaxed against him.  This was fine.  Everything was fine.  They were going to get through this visit without a problem.  They’d have plenty of time before the wedding - Michael might even decide it wasn’t what he wanted.  He was still very young, after all.

There was plenty of time.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant was criminally expensive.  It was the kind of place where Steve took Peggy for a night out.  Michael typically rated burgers and two for one drink specials.  Steve had wanted something more econo for their first meeting with the new girl, but Peggy balked.  She said they needed to make a good impression.  Steve didn’t agree, but he didn’t feel like fighting about it.

The table was very private.  Camila seemed ... inoffensive.  That really was the most flattering description Steve could come up with.  She was attractive, and seemed intelligent enough.  She was no Peggy.

He said as much to Michael when the girls got up to go to the bathroom.  

“Well?” Michael prompted.

Steve shrugged, throwing back what was left of his bourbon and motioning to the waiter to bring another.  “She’s nothing like your mother.”

“Thank god,” Michael said under his breath.

Steve frowned.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Michael just looked at him.  “You can’t be serious.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Peggy and Camila returned to the table.  The waiter brought another round of drinks.  Sparkling water for Camila, which made Steve distrust her more.  Was she too good to drink with them?  Peggy always had drinks with dinner.

“Mike, should we?” Camila asked, looking at Michael.

Michael flushed slightly, taking a deep breath as he reached for Camila’s hand.  “Uh, yeah.”  He looked from Steve to Peggy.  “Mum, Dad, we have an announcement.”

“We know,” Steve said dryly, “you’re getting married.”

Under the table, Peggy kicked him in the shin.

Michael frowned.  “Well, that, yes,” he said.  He looked at Camila.  Both of them doe eyed.  Steve was beginning to feel nauseated.  “But we’re also - “

“We’re going to have a baby,” Camila said, smiling brightly.  “In the spring.”

Steve reached over and caught Peggy’s wine glass before it spilled.  He motioned to the waiter to bring another round.

 

* * *

 

Steve followed Peggy through their darkened apartment.  She didn’t say much in the car on the way home.  He knew she was upset, but the specifics of why - beyond the fact that her kid was getting married, and they were going to be grandparents - were lost on him.

Peggy turned on a lamp in the bedroom and then disappeared into the walk in closet.  Steve stood there for a moment and then toed out of his shoes.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks, dropping them on the floor.  Reaching for his belt, he unbuckled it and pulled it out of the loops.

He was getting ready to drop the belt on the floor when Peggy walked out of the master bedroom in only her bra and panties.  She nudged his knees apart and then stood between them, looking down at him.  “Don’t put the belt down,” she said.  “You’ll need it.”

Steve looked up at her, repressing a shiver.  Shit.  It was going to be one of  _ these _ nights.

She tossed a pair of manacles onto the bed.  They were heavy duty leather cuffs, connected by high tensile metal alloy cable.  She looked away from him and crawled onto the bed, hands and knees, back arched.  He couldn’t have looked away, even if he’d wanted to.  He watched as she connected the first manacle to her left wrist, buckling it tightly.  She then threaded the cable through the headboard.  She lay on her back, legs spread, as she attempted to buckle the other cuff.  With the first cuff limiting her range of motion so severely, she couldn’t manage it.  With a huff, she looked at him.  “A little help?”

He stood up and looked at her for a long time.  Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt.  “What’s your safeword?”

“I don’t need a fucking safeword, Steve.”

“Then you don’t need any fucking help with that manacle, and I’ll go sleep on the couch,” he said dispassionately.

She glared at him.  “Rumlow.”

“Peggy - “

“It’s my safeword, it can be whatever I want it to be.”

He bit his tongue, shrugging out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.  Her choice of safeword was not going to be the hill on which he was going to die tonight.  Slowly, he crawled over her on all fours.  He lowered himself against her, her hips cradling his, as he reached for her wrist.

“Make it tight.”

He shook his head and looked down at her.  “Whoever coined the phrase ‘topping from the bottom’ was talking about you.”

“Tight,” she snapped.

He buckled the manacle, not overly snugly, and then released her wrist.  

She made a frustrated noise.  “Pussy.”

“Easy, Peggy,” he said, his voice light, but the warning was clear, “or you’re not going to have anyone to play with.”  

He waited.  She was breathing hard.  Her color was high.  He knew what she wanted - or what she thought she wanted.  She was trying to goad him into actually hurting her.  And he understood, that under the most benign circumstances, Peggy enjoyed that sort of rough sex play a lot.

But he also understood that tonight was different.  She was running from something, raging at something.  He wasn’t sure.  But it scared him more than a little.

Slowly, he ducked his head and kissed her.  She snapped at his lips, trying to bite him.  He jerked his head back.  “ _ Peggy. _ ”

She growled, yanking at her wrists, again and again, until he caught them in his hands.  When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth.  “You’re going to dislocate your wrist again.  Stop.”

“Steve, just fucking - “

He kissed her again, levering himself up so he was pinning her to the bed.  He was rough, demanding, and she finally quit fighting him.  He forced her mouth open and she acquiesced.  This is what she wanted, to be dominated, to be physically overpowered.

But he hated it.  He owned up to the fact that as Peggy’s monogamous sexual partner, he had to indulge her from time to time, but not like this, not tonight.  This was bullshit.

As she gentled, so did he, becoming softer by degrees.  He could feel that a lot of the fight had gone out of her, replaced by something darker and quieter.

Cautiously, he released one of her wrists, and then the other, kissing her the whole time.  He moved to her jaw, nipping and licking.  He could hear her sharp intake of breath, feel her uneven breathing.  Before long, he could taste her tears.  He continued to kiss her as he released the buckle on one manacle, and then the other.  As soon as she was free, he rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, and she immediately curled against him, sobbing quietly, her face pressed against his chest.

His head hurt.  He hated this shit.  Why couldn’t they just fuck and then pass out like a normal couple?

But Steve knew that he couldn’t leave Peggy when she was like this, regardless of how irritated he was.  This is how she ended up in that mess with Harris.  So Steve pulled her more tightly against his body and held her there.  For better, or for worse, she belonged with him.  Even if she made him fucking insane.

Peggy eventually fell quiet.  After a while, she shoved him away and rose from the bed, wiping impatiently at her face as she walked into the bathroom.  He could hear the shower.  Frowning, he unthreaded the manacles from the headboard, and then took them into the closet and shoved them back into her drawer of debauchery.  Steve didn’t need props.  His imagination was sufficient all by itself.  And for what he lacked in that department, he had video of Peggy.

He finished undressing and returned to bed.  He beat the pillows into shape with more force than was strictly necessary, and then grabbed his tablet, scrolling through sports scores.

It was at least half an hour later when Peggy finally came to bed.  She lay down, facing away from him, and turned off the light without a word.

Steve set his tablet aside and rolled toward Peggy.  Cautiously, he put a hand on her hip.  She didn’t snap at him.  Experimentally, he scooted closer.  With a sigh, she rolled over, pressing herself against him.  He kissed her and she reciprocated.  

Why was it so much work to get to this point?

She pushed at his shoulder.  “Go down on me.”

He nodded, scooting down the bed.  Finally, something they both enjoyed.

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke to the sound of her phone ringing.  Steve, who was still mostly asleep, growled.  As she reached for her phone, he pulled her back, trying to pin her to him.

She elbowed him in the solar plexus.  “It’s Michael.”

“Tell him to fuck off,” Steve snapped.  “We’re sleeping.”

Peggy ignored him, answering the phone.  She knew Steve was still grouchy about last night.  She had no idea what set him off.  He’d been weird all night.

“Yes?” she said into the phone.

“Hey.”  Michael paused.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.  Why?”

“I just ...”  He sighed.  “Uh, Camila and I are going to look at a few apartments today, but I was hoping maybe you had time for breakfast first.  Just you and me?”

Breakfast with just Michael sounded fabulous.  Peggy looked at the clock on the nightstand.  “Yes.  I’ll meet you at your hotel in an hour and a half.”

“Okay.  See you soon.”

Peggy ended the call and set her phone back on the nightstand before she lay back on the bed.  Steve immediately pulled her close.  She looked over at him.  His eyes were still shut, but she knew he was wide awake.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked.

He opened one eye.  “What’s going on with  _ me?” _

She waited.

He sighed, and then pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at her.  “Our son is getting married,” he said.  “He’s moving his new bride to town, even though he’ll be deployed most of the time.”

Peggy nodded.

“And we’re going to be grandparents,” Steve said.

Peggy took a deep breath and nodded again.  “Yeah.”

“I feel like some of us are having a hard time processing this much change,” he said pointedly.

She patted him on the chest.  “Well, yes, some of us are just going to have to grow up and get over it.”

Steve made a strangled noise.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Peggy said.

 

* * *

 

Michael was waiting in the lobby when Peggy arrived.  They were seated in the hotel restaurant.  Peggy ordered black coffee and toast.

Michael seemed to be working up his nerve.  “Mum, we need to talk.”

Peggy took a sip of her coffee.  “About what, dear?”

He sighed, looking very much like his father.  “You’ve been ...” He paused, searching for words.  “Super crazy, like off the scale crazy.  Like, move us to Mumbai in the middle of the night crazy.”

Peggy set her coffee down, frowning at her son.

“And when you’re crazy, Dad is even more of an asshole than usual,” Michael continued.  He seemed to think better of saying much more and stopped himself.  He took a deep breath.  “Mum, I know you love me.  I know you worry.”

Peggy took another drink of coffee, crossing her legs.  She set her cup down.  “Michael, you’re so young.”

“I’m not,” he said immediately, shaking his head.  “I’m really not.  I know I’m your son. I get it,” he said.  “But I kill people for a living, Mum.  I’m not a kid.”  He sighed.  “I love Camila.  We’re getting married.  And we’re going to have a baby.”

Peggy frowned.

“See,” Michael said, “that’s what I mean.  That face.”

“I am not making a face, Michael,” Peggy snapped.

Michael took a deep breath.  “I just wish you could be happy for us.”

Peggy paused, taking stock of herself.  Michael was right - somewhat.  Peggy wasn’t willing to admit to being crazy.  But Michael was right about a few things.  She was feeling ... less than thrilled at the news of his impending marriage, and now, the impending grandchild.  

She took a deep breath.  “I love you so very much,” she said.  “And I apologize if I’ve been unintentionally making things difficult for you and Camila.  I do want you to be happy.”

Michael reached across the table and took Peggy’s hand, giving it a squeeze.  

Peggy felt her eyes prick with tears.  “For the longest time,” she said, in a near whisper, “it was just the two of us.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael said with an obvious lack of concern, “things change.  You moved back in with Dad without consulting me.  I found someone I love and we’re going to have a baby.  Life moves on.”

Peggy smiled at her son.  “You practiced that argument.”

“Just a little,” he admitted.

Peggy sighed.

“I want your blessing on the wedding,” Michael said pointedly.  “And I want you to mean it.”

“You have my blessing,” Peggy promised.

“And I need you to keep Dad in line during the ceremony,” he continued.

“Listen, Michael, I’m not a miracle worker.”

Michael gave her a pleading look.  “You are the  _ only _ person he listens to. Please.”

She sighed.  “I’ll try.”  She took another drink of coffee.  “Have you set a date?”

He nodded.  “I have two weeks of leave over Christmas.  We’re going to do it then.”

Peggy took a deep breath.  “That’s soon.”

Michael shrugged.  “The kid’s not going to wait.  And Camila’s healthcare plan is total shite.”

Peggy nodded.  It appeared he had thought this through from a multitude of angles.

“I have applied for a transfer,” Michael said.  “A domestic posting.  Hopefully here in New York.  But if it goes through, it’s probably going to take months.”  He took a deep breath.  “It would mean a lot to me if you could reach out to Camila.  She doesn’t have any family here, and she only knows a couple of people.  She could use the help.”

Peggy nodded.  “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Michael said quietly.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, dear.”

 

* * *

 

Steve studied her over the rim of his coffee cup as she walked back in the apartment.  He was wearing a pair of ratty old sweatpants and nothing else.  His hair was in disarray and he needed to shave.  

“What?”

He frowned.  “How was breakfast?”

She sighed, setting down her purse.  “It was good.”  

“Yeah?”

She nodded.

He finally ventured closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him.  She leaned into him.  “So you and Michael patched things up?” he asked.

“There was nothing to patch up,” she said.  “But yes.”

Steve nipped along her jaw.  “You’re okay with the kid getting married?”

“Yes,” Peggy said.  “I even promised to take Camila shopping for a dress.”

Steve pulled back far enough to look her in the eye.  “And you’re okay with being a grandma?”

Peggy frowned.  “Why do you have to be so terrible?”

He shrugged.  “It’s part of my charm.”

 

END STORY


End file.
